A Little Love
by Cecelia Pemberly
Summary: Young Cutler Beckett has always been made fun of because of his height, but having a tall girl only makes it worse. He's had enough of it, so he takes some revenge
1. Chapter 1

Eighteen year old Cutler Beckett climbed into the horse drawn carriage on a warm, spring, England morning. He had a small bouquet of tulips and lilies in his hands, bound by a white paper. He wore his best suit, the one that was dark blue with gold brocade like his father's Naval uniform. His dark brown hair was pulled back into a long ponytail with a black ribbon. He wanted to look dashing…more dashing than ever before. Today was a special day. He was going to confess love.

The coach started to pull away from his home. He started to sigh every few minutes and go over what he was going to say.

"Susan. I know we have been good friends for a long time…"

"Susan, I think it's time we take our relationship further…"

"Susan, I apologize if I seem forward but I…must speak my mind…"

Over and over again he mixed up words that wouldn't cause him to become extremely embarrassed in his head. He had never felt this way about anyone, but Susan had been his friend ever since he had moved to London. She was the only girl he had ever held an honest conversation with. Susan was his age. She was taller than most girls with light brown hair that was usually pulled up with ringlets hanging in front of her ears. She fancied light colored dresses like palm leaf green and rosy pink. Her eyes were sky blue that made her look almost blind. Her skin was a light tan because she loved to be outside. Basically she was the exact opposite of Cutler.

As the carriage pulled up the dirt drive to her manor, he let out the biggest sigh of the trip so far. Gripping his bouquet so hard that he thought the stems would snap, he stepped down out of the coach. He slowly walked up to the door as the carriage pulled away. He tried not to drag his feet in the dust, but he was so nervous that it was almost a subconscious action. He put the fist with the flowers in it behind his back as he knocked with the other. He rose onto the balls of his feet while he waited in the silence of morning for the door to open. Finally after about a minute, a tall man in a dark suit opened the door.

"Master Beckett, are you looking for Miss. Jackson?" he asked in a very low voice.

"Yes sir, is she here?" he asked nervously.

"She is. She's just finishing breakfast. She slept in today. Would you like me to get her?"

"Yes please!" The man shut the door and walked away. Beckett waited another minute for Susan. She opened the door and Beckett saw that she was still in her nightgown.

"Oh! Cutler!" she exclaimed in a tone that sounded surprised. "I thought you were coming later. I need to get changed, but please come in!" Beckett stepped inside with the flowers still hidden. He took a seat on a bench just inside the door. After Susan climbed the first few steps, she paused. "Aren't you coming?"

Beckett's ears reddened along with the rest of his face, but the charm of the young woman persuaded him to follow her. The man whom had answered the door shook his head before walking away.

Susan opened the door to her room. It had white molding around the windows and door. Her double wide window had a seat that was cushioned with red pillows that accented the rose prints on the walls. Her bed was a four poster with a pink canopy over it. There was an elegant armoire in the corner of the room that was used to hang anything fancy like her dresses. Everything was laced or was adorned in ribbon. Beckett forced a smile at everything feminine.

"You can take a seat on the bed," she said as she walked over to the armoire. He sat on the bed that was so high that he needed to jump a bit and his legs couldn't touch the ground.

"Um…these are for you Susan." He pulled the flowers out from behind his back. "You told me you loved lilies."

"Oh they're beautiful! Thank you so much!" She took a moment to smell the flowers before leaning over and pecking Beckett on the cheek. He smiled slightly as she giggled toward her water jug. She poured some icy water into an empty vase before she unwrapped the paper and put the flowers inside. She walked over to the closet again and pulled out a light blue dress. She flew behind her changing screen. Beckett pursed his lips, resisting temptation as she hung her nightgown over the screen.

"Don't think like that, Cutler!" he thought to himself. He quietly slapped himself across the face just before Susan came out in her dress. He stood up and fell a few inches.

"I've been saving this dress for a nice day," she said calmly. "Shall we go?" Beckett offered his elbow and replied

"We shall."

They walked all across town, weaving in and out of side allies and back roads to get away from the hustle and bustle of London. Next to her he felt like a small child holding onto his mother because of his height. He was the laughing stock of the family. He didn't know why he was so short, because everyone else in his family was average height or taller. When Susan was with him she never wore her heels, but her flats. If her parents would let her, she would wear no shoes, but that never worked out. When the two reached the shores, Susan stopped suddenly.

"Not them again!" she sighed. Cutler looked toward the shore because he had been looking at his feet. He let out a sigh as well. There were 3 boys running around on the shore, most likely waiting for their father's to finish up their duties on the ship that had just docked. Two of the boys were Cutler's age. One of them was a blonde and he was the leader of the group. The other older boy had dark brown hair and he was very broad shouldered. His Navy uniform was slightly dirty, so it was no doubt that he had just gotten back from a voyage. The younger boy was about 10 years old and he was the younger brother of the brown haired boy. The blonde boy stopped and he caught sight of Cutler and Susan.

"Well, well, well look who's here! Cutler brought his mother with him! Oh wait, that's Susan!" he mocked. Cutler started to walk behind Susan who was stomping toward the blonde boy.

"Get off him, Nathan!" she called to him.

"Ooh scary. How about no?" Cutler walked up in front of Nathan. "You do know that height makes the man, right? I mean look at James over here!" He called James over to him. "He's eight years younger than you and only an inch shorter!"

"Stop it, Nathan!"

"I told you not to interfere, wench!" He walked over to her and pushed her into the sand.

"Don't touch her!" Cutler screamed as he pulled out his sword and put it to Nathan's neck.

"Oh look! It's a sword half the size that you are! Your father's, no doubt." Cutler lowered his sword and slipped it back into his case.

"There is one benefit of being small, Nathan," Cutler said walking up to him.

"Oh is that so? What is it then? You can fit into an ice box?"

"No, it's hurts more when I do this." And at that moment, Cutler kneed Nathan in the fork of his legs and he fell to the ground in pain. Susan, who was still on the ground, looked at Cutler in shock. "Susan!" Cutler said as he offered out his hand. She quickly grabbed it and they started to run off. He ran faster than he ever thought he could.

"You coward!" Nathan called out.

"I don't see you chasing me!" Cutler called back. He saw Nathan get up and start running. Cutler quickly dragged Susan into a side ally. When the other three boys had run past them, they let out a huge breath of relief.

"Thank you so much for that! I have yet to meet a man who would stand up for me like that."

"You're…wait…did you just call me a man?" Cutler asked.

"Yes." Susan bowed her head and then looked at Cutler. He was smiling slightly. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Cutler had never felt that feeling before.

"Thank you for this day," Cutler said.

"Thank you for everything."


	2. Worries

Cutler sat as his desk drumming his fingers against the elm wood creating a mellow "dat!" against the surface. Beads of sweat coated his neck and forehead. He tried to take his mind of the thoughts running through his mind by finishing up some paperwork, but he had no control of his dominate left hand. The quill dropped or shook so violently that and "A" turned to look more like a wavy "Q" or "X." He looked out the window. It was dark now. Black as ink, black as the nighttime sea.

Black as death.

He threw down his quill in frustration. He kept glancing out the window. She'd been gone since morning, now it was most likely midnight or later. He poured another glass of whiskey all the way to the rim, and he downed it quickly. When he looked at the bottle from which he poured it, he sighed.

"Nearly empty…my 3rd bottle today," he said to himself. His fingers curled into fists of anxiety, and he tightened his fingers so much that there were four crescent shaped marks on his palms with blood drawn from them. He twirled his index finger in the ribbon that tied back his hair. It was slowly falling out from him tugging on the bow. He was silent. He was waiting for one sound.

The sound of a carriage.

He waited for the carriage to come. It meant that all was fine. He wasn't waiting for any carriage though, but only his own. Any other meant that all was NOT fine. His office window was cracked open for this reason. The chilly nighttime breezy blew the cotton curtains lightly and it made the blue green fabric look like the rippling sea. The crickets chirped outside his window in the plants below. A group of frogs sang in the forest behind him. Cutler could hear the sea washing up on the shore and out again. And for a single moment…maybe two

He felt at peace.

But then the negative thoughts came rushing back into his mind. They all washed back in like the sea on the shore, and the waves leaving the dreadful thoughts of death and pain on the sand. He took the bottle of whiskey and put the cool glass to his dry lips. All the water in his body was coming as sweat. He couldn't cry, his lips were dry, his eyes felt as if they were covered in dirt. The whiskey traveled down his throat, but instead of it being a soothing sip, it went down bitter. He couldn't take this anymore.

Cutler bounded down the stairs. Without stopping, he grabbed his coat off the hat rack. It tipped over and the thud echoed through the foyer. He jumped over the front steps with a giant leap that could have possibly thrown him over a 6 foot tall man if he had his head down. He thought while he was in mid air,

"He told me not to come."

But that was something that he didn't plan on obeying. He was a leader, not a follower. If he endured any more anxiety that night, he'd probably drive himself insane. He was only 28, but he was experiencing the amount of stress a 40 year old Admiral would feel over the course of a few months, in one day.

Port Royal was flashing before his eyes. The street lamps blurred into a long string of light. He ran as fast as his short legs could carry him. He cursed his height, his physical ability, and his mind, which was too busy thinking of death to motivate him to run faster.

Cutler tried to convince himself that he was overreacting over the whole ordeal. She was fine, but these things took time, but how would he know that? He never had experience with the matter. Negativity was one of his many flaws, adding not to his outside appearance, but to how he acted on the inside. He was convinced that thinking negatively stunted his growth, which was why he was only 5' 3". Another flaw.

His lungs burned as if he'd just swallowed the sun. He couldn't understand it. The wind wasn't at all warm, but chilly. It was a clear night and the half moon shown like a beacon over the town. He put his right hand against his chest as he ran, panting painfully along. He squinted his eyes from the pain of breathing. If Cutler were running this hard anywhere, this would have been the place to go.

He didn't even knock. Cutler always knocked when entering a house or place of business, but this was no time for waiting. He burst inside and nearly passed out on the floor. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to catch his breath that was nearly impossible to recover at this point.

"I told you to stay at home, Mr. Beckett!" a man called. He was a very slight man. What was left of his hair was a light gray and black mix. He had dark bags under his eyes. Cutler knew that he had most likely been awake as long as he had. Rags and supplies were stuffed into the pockets of his white apron that was stained in various places with dirt and blood that had dried from years past.

"I…I need to know how she's faring, Mr. Miller," he said between gasps.

"Cutler, I can't tell you anything as of the present time. I can't tell you anything until it's all over." He tightened the strings on his apron. Cutler heard a scream upstairs and he fainted. Mr. Miller ran over to him. "Get up, boy!" He fanned Cutler with his apron. When that didn't work, he poured a glass of water into his mouth. He opened his eyes slowly.

"What was that?!" he demanded.

"Pain, boy." Cutler stood up and leaned against the door again. "From the sound of it, I need to get back. You should also. Go back home, sleep and I'll have her back by morning. If I don't come to your door by the time the sun is shining in your window, you can come back. Now go!" He nearly pushed Cutler out the door.

"But." Too late. He shut the door in his face. Cutler stood there for a moment. That scream kept repeating in his head like an order he continually forgot to follow. The only time she screamed was when she was in the worst type of pain.

Near death pain.

"Make it stop!" he shouted as he grabbed his forehead. He started walking back to his house. He was tired and his head got lighter as he got closer to his home. He legs could no longer support his weight. His mind couldn't pull a positive thought out no matter how hard he tried to find one. All he could hear was that scream, that shriek of pain. The darkness around him seemed to encase him, swallowing him in its black, grim arms. He didn't even make it to the doorknob. He passed out on his front porch steps in fatigue.

The next morning, he woke to the feeling of heat on his face. His body was burning from the heat trapped in his heavy coat. He didn't realize that he had fallen asleep. He sat up and rubbed his head. He had banged it on one of the stone steps. He groggily walked back inside, hanging up his coat on the rack that wasn't there, so it fell to the floor. Cutler was only moving his feet as high as they had to go to reach the next step, because they felt like anchors to his body. He dragged himself to his bedroom, and he crawled into bed. Then he realized that the sun was shining on him

And no one lay next to him like he was used to.

He threw off the covers and darted down the stairs again. She wasn't anywhere in the house. He was still alone. Mr. Miller promised. His heart fell. He didn't even bother getting redressed. He ran out of his house, half dressed in his trousers. She was going to kill him for turning up like this.

She would if she was still alive.

The negative comments flew into his mind like a violent HURRICANE now. He searched for that little bit of motivation to run faster, just enough that he could get to Mr. Miller's before something bad happened, and if something bad was about to happen, he could say goodbye.

He knocked this time, trying to hide his emotion. When Mr. Miller opened the door, he was shocked to see Cutler dressed, or not dressed, like this.

"What is wrong with you?! Have you any decency left?!"

"Where is she?!" he demanded even forcefully than he did the previous night. "You promised!"

"These types of things can't be planned in advance. They take their own sweet time."

"Can I see her?" he asked, trying to calm down.

"You may, but I don't know how awake she is to talk. Very long night for her. But you look rested." Mr. Miller paused and eyed Cutler's forehead "What did you-?"

"I passed out on the front porch steps last night, sir," he said quickly. Before Mr. Miller could say anything else, Cutler bound up the stairs. There was a door cracked slightly at the end of the hallway with a sign on it that said. "Silence please. Patient recovery." He looked in and saw her. His beloved wife Susan.

And she was breathing.

Her eyes were closed and her arms were on top of the white sheets at her sides. She was breathing better than he was at the moment. Her light brown hair hadn't been brushed since the previous morning before she was taken here, so it was slightly messy where it brushed up against the feather stuffed pillow. Cutler took a seat next to her bed. He carefully reached out and touched her forehead with the softest touch he could give without taking his hand off completely. The corners of her mouth rose a bit into a small smile. He put his palm down and they rose higher. He moved his thumb across her eyebrow and down her nose and her smile turned into a grin showing her teeth followed by a slight laugh.

"Cutler." It was all she was able to get out.

"I…I couldn't fall asleep last night until I passed out," he explained with a chuckle. "I was too worried about you." Susan laughed.

"When you proposed to me and I knew this was going to happen, that's what I was most worried about, that you would worry yourself sick." She touched the bruise on his forehead. "You seemed stronger at 18. Remember that day on the beach? Nathan?"

"I can't forget it. That was the day of our first kiss."

"We need to get stronger now, together." Cutler took her hand in his.

"Miss?" asked a nurse as she peaked in. Susan smiled. Cutler stood up as the nurse walked in with a little baby boy. Cutler smiled but then he realized that the nurse wasn't smiling. He turned to look at his wife, who shared the expression.

"He's…so tiny," she said as she took him in her arms. At that moment, her smiled tried to break from under her tears of happiness. "But why does that matter?"

"Miss, he is very small. He requires a little extra care before you can go back. But I'll let you see him for a bit." She left the room. Cutler sat down on the bed next to his wife and newborn son. He was about the size of Cutler's forearm. He didn't see that as small, but he wouldn't know. He had very light skin, just like Cutler did. His son had pale blue eyes that his wife possessed. Was he blind? Sure looked like it, but Susan had the same eyes and she was fine. The boy looked around the room, and when his parents talked, he followed their voices, but when the nurse talked, he didn't react.

"He…he can understand us?" he asked.

"Of course he can. He may not be able to understand words, but he recognizes the pitch in our voices." Cutler smiled, showing his teeth. He was never this happy. Susan looked at him.

"Why are you dressed like that?" she asked.

"Long story, but I'll make it short." He told her the story of his worrying, and she laughed as much as she could. She sounded like she was in pain. "How long were you in pain?"

"As long as you were. It was all over just an hour ago. Mr. Miller expected you here earlier. It's a few hours after sunrise." The baby cooed. Susan looked at Cutler. "I've been holding this boy for months. You should have a turn." He looked at her, resisted, but then took the fragile being in his arms. He had never had the pleasure of holding a newborn child. He looked at the baby, and then at Susan. She had fallen asleep. She was breathing and that's all Cutler worried about.

A name.

This boy needed a name.


	3. Changes

"James Thomas! In here now!" Cutler called. Twelve year old James cringed slightly from his father's angry voice using his middle name. He knew what he did was only an accident, but he could never explain that to his father, even though he can't remember the last time he lied to his parents. He slowly walked up the stairs like a puppy that had been beaten one too many times. His father wasn't the one to get angry a lot, not around him at least. James knew that his anger now was caused by the stress of leaving for an indefinite amount of time to arrest and execute two people in a place called Port Royal in the Caribbean again. They were two people that Cutler described as "menaces to society, terrorists and worst of all: pirates"

"Y-you called me?" James asked as he peaked his head through the door of his father's study. He saw his father throwing clothes into a trunk in anger.

"I did. What did you do with my coat?" he almost demanded, yet his voice wasn't raised. James sighed silently in relief.

"Isn't it in the back of your closet where it always is?"

"If it was, I wouldn't be asking where it was. You"

"Always ask the most obvious questions, I know," James finished. He voiced faded off. His father was changing. His mother told him that he started changing when his job became more demanding after he was born. He was even tenser now. He had lost two fugitives. A man and woman, fiancés. He had a warrant for another's arrest, but through careful bargaining he brought him into the company. "Which coat are you looking for?"

"My maroon one." James walked over to the hat rack by the door and unhooked the maroon coat from a peg. He father snatched it from his hand, without any thanks and he threw it on his own back. James quietly backed out of the room.

As he ran his fingers over the cherry wood banister of the stairs, he heard his mother singing as she walked across the foyer, he dress flowing behind her. She never fancied elegant gowns with corsets and lots of lace. Her dresses were inexpensive, but if she were hosting a gathering of some sort, or just attending on, she would put on a dress that only the wealthy could afford. Lately she has been claiming that she can't fit into many of her dresses. She said that she could only fit into the dresses she insisted on keeping from twelve years ago. She jumped slightly when Cutler exclaimed. "What is THIS?!" James cringed. "James!" He quietly walked backwards to his father's study, this time like the puppy that was just shot.

"Yes, father?" Cutler held up his maroon coat. On the right sleeve's cuff, there was a blotch of ink. James's eyebrows came together and up. He sobbed a little.

"Did you do this?" he asked semi calmly

"Now who's the one asking obvious questions?!" James shouted. He regretted it. He knew not to raise his voice to his father. Cutler's glare wouldn't leave his son's face.

"What did you just say?"

"N-nothing…" Cutler brought his hand back and James whimpered and crouched down. Before Cutler's hand could even reach his son, Susan came into the room.

"Cutler!" she exclaimed. "What in God's name do you think you're doing?!" Cutler dropped his hand and his attitude suddenly changed.

"I…I don't know." James looked at his father. His eyes had changed. They were wide and sympathetic, but unlike other times, James saw that he actually matched his expression on the inside.

"James, your father and I need to discuss some things. Could you please leave?" Susan asked politely. James nodded and left quietly and he walked to his room. Cutler brought over two chairs from the other side of the room, but Susan refused to sit. "What was that?!" Cutler mouthed words but nothing came out.

"I don't know what came over me…"

"It's the same excuse every time I catch you, isn't it?" Susan cocked her head slightly. "I don't know why you are changing this drastically. Ever since James has grown enough for him to understand what is going on around him, you have acted as if he was the child you never wanted. Is that true?" Cutler looked toward the window where the sun was being blocked out by gray clouds.

"Of course not." He grabbed his trunk and opened the door.

"We're not done here, Cutler," Susan said calmly as he started down the hall.

"I need to get this on the ship before the storm comes."

"No you don't. You need to fix your relationship first." But Cutler didn't stop. "Get back here!" Susan managed to get in front of him. "Are you daft? Don't you notice anything? Can't you see repeating history?" Cutler stopped to think. "Cutler…you came back 4 months ago. I can't believe you don't see it now." He looked her in the eyes in slight surprise.

"You're not…"

"I am." She sighed. "If you treat James like this…I don't know if I can trust you with another. If you don't shape up-"

"I…I need to leave." He opened the front door and dragged his trunk outside. He didn't bother with the carriage. He lived right by the port.

"I hope you find what you're looking for!" Susan called out with sudden urgency in her voice. "I hope you find what you're looking for…because I'm not. You stopped caring for anyone but yourself when your Majesty dubbed you Lord Cutler Beckett, and I Lady. You can't buy happiness and security." She stomped her foot and scoffed. "You and I always treat these days like the last ones we'll ever see each other. What a fine way we have spent the one that will come true!" Cutler stopped in his tracks.

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"I won't be here if you do come back! Maybe it's best for both of us…soon to be four of us, that you DON'T come back!" Cutler felt like he had just been punched in the gut. Those words, they hurt more than any insult or injury he had ever received as a child.

"Susan…please." He started to tremble.

"You've had your chances! You've had 6 years to change! You never took any of those chances! I liked you better when you were eighteen." Susan began to walk up to him. "It seems that I've lost my husband, Cutler Beckett. If you see him, tell him that I miss him and wish that he'd come home." Cutler, without looking at her, knew that she was crying. Her voice wavered and she sniffled a lot. He sighed.

"My lily…my love. My lily, my love. My lily AND my love. God I have forsaken you and picked the petals off the most precious flower in your Garden of Eden. Please bless her and protect her that she may not wilt, but grow again, and that my fingers shall never touch the fragile petals of that beauty for harm. My life is within her and her son, our son. I shall see them again."

"Never say…we die."

Susan was choking on her tears. Cutler turned around. She smiled. "That's the man I knew at eighteen." She kissed him passionately and as he pulled away, she knew it was a promise that said "I will come back."

She walked down to the shore with him, people pointing at them. They could see Susan's condition clearly. She even overheard a comment. "Poor dear. She's going to be an Ace of Spades soon, and with two children." She walked halfway down the docks to the Endeavour. Before Cutler even set foot on the boarding ramp, he stopped. "Come with us."

"What?"

"You and James…come with us."

"Again…are you daft?! I'm 4 months pregnant…It takes 3 months alone to get to Port Royal, and then you may spend months traveling elsewhere. Either way, I'll be on a ship to give birth with no one but MEN. Not exactly something pleasant."

"But we will all die at the same time if we do…none of us will be alone."

"I couldn't go through with it. Just like every other time, it's a risk we need to take." Susan turned around and saw James running up toward them.

"Please forgive me!" he called. Cutler didn't answer, but he gave a smile. James knew that he already had. As the ship cast off the dock and headed for Port Royal, James knew his father was coming back.


End file.
